


In Sleep (s)he Sang to Me

by Stregatrek



Series: White Roses, For a Change [1]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera (2004)
Genre: Behind the Scenes, F/F, Femslash, Fifteen Minute Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 20:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19341964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stregatrek/pseuds/Stregatrek
Summary: Meg and Christine





	In Sleep (s)he Sang to Me

**Author's Note:**

> I grew up watching (and rewatching and rewatching) the 2004 Phantom of the Opera and wanting it to be gayer. Today I saw a live stage performance and Meg Giry had that Big Gay Energy and I uh lost it

"Touch me, trust me; savor each sensation,"  
Horrified and transfixed, feeling as though she were dreaming- or having a nightmare- Christine stared helplessly at the half-hidden face. He had been there, he had listened. He had listened to Meg as she whispered in the darkness, her blonde curls soft between Christine's fingers.  


She remembered that night, when Meg had kissed her softly, their hands moving frantically and silently beneath the sheets. Meg's breath had been hot against her mouth, the soft sounds of the others in the dormitory reassuring Christine that the other ballerinas were asleep. Meg had stolen softly across the room, folded herself into bed with a dancer's grace. "Hello," her sweet soft voice had whispered in Christine's ear, bringing her back from the edge of sleep where her Angel's voice waited.  


"Hello," Christine had turned back the sheets and tucked Meg under them as she crawled into bed.  


"You danced beautifully today," Meg kissed her just behind her ear, one hand sliding softly across Christine's stomach. She caught it with her own and Meg brought their joined hands to her mouth, kissing Christine's knuckles.  


"Thank you," Christine answered. "So did you." She loved it when Meg came to her at night, just between wakefulness and sleep. It felt so soft and so honest. When she gazed at her friend in the light of day, Meg always seemed so focused, so serious. She was so real, a trait Christine sometimes found herself missing as the time spent with her Angel grew and her time talking with the other girls in the dormitory, girls she had grown up with, diminished. She seemed to live in an in between world these days, with strange songs in her head and Meg's lips soft in the darkness.  


Christine didn't know how to say what she was feeling, a dreamlike love, and she stopped searching when her lips were stilled by Meg's own. Quietly, she gasped, and her friend trailed fingers down her face, over her neck, and to the laces on her night dress. Christine nodded slightly when Meg paused, breathing, "yes."  


"You're so beautiful, Christine." Meg's voice was so sweet, so earnest, and Christine smiled to hear it.  
She tucked Meg's hair behind her ear, kissing her softly, tugging her lower lip gently. Her hands framed Meg's face. "Oh, Meg."  


Meg's hands were at her waist, ghosting over her thighs. "Christine," she breathed. "You looked so beautiful when you danced today. Something in the light, in your hair, the way you smiled at me. Christine-" Meg cut herself with a kiss as Christine gasped quietly, shaking as Meg contined to touch her. "You are so lovely like this."  


"Nights with you-" Christine gasps and shivers again. "Oh-"  


"Touch me," Meg whispered against her lips, and Christine untangled her hands from Meg's hair, sliding them down her body. Meg trembled against her and slid her own hand beneath Christine's nightgown. 

"Trust me," she murmured, almost too quiet to hear at all. "Savor," she kissed Christine's neck. "Each," a kiss at the edge of Christine's mouth, making her gasp. "Sensation," and finally Meg kissed her deeply, adoringly, Christine in a heaven that belonged only to the two of them.  


"I love you," she responded softly when the kiss broke, turning her face into Meg's hair. She knew Meg felt strongly, a passion burning in her that Christine could never hope to equal, but she hoped it was enough for her sweet lover to hear that she in turn was loved. Albeit by someone who never seemed to settle into any role, any persona, other than that of a recipient. The Angel gave her music, and she keyed to it, learning and returning every day but always waiting, waiting, waiting for his voice and his song, there in her head at the end of the day and all around her when she was alone. She waited for Meg the same way, part of her awake until she heard the other girl fall asleep or until she came to Christine's bed. She would wait for Meg any time. When she gestured and her eyes grew dark while they were dancing and Christine tucked herself behind a set piece, Meg joining her, kissing softly behind the swells of the orchestra and the moving swarm of the theater in full rehearsal swing. Alone in the busiest place in Paris, Meg had smiled once, her eyes bright in the soft red light between the folds of the velvety curtain they had hidden themselves in.  


Christine wondered as the Angel- the Phantom? sang, whether she and Meg had ever really been alone. The thought made her faint, and the last thing she recalled seeing was her own face beneath the veil of a wedding dress.


End file.
